


I stood on the shoulders of Orion

by MrsRidcully



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, M/M, Navigator Stiles, New World, Peter is the Ships Android, Red Dwarf References, Space Ships, Space ships crashing, Star Wars References, Terraforming new worlds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:52:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/pseuds/MrsRidcully
Summary: Stiles lay dreaming in his Stasis couch. He dreamed of a man with a whimsical smile and soft blue eyes. He lay dreaming of soft kisses and firm thighs, unaware of the nightmare that was being unleashed around him.





	I stood on the shoulders of Orion

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a bot vs fic, this started as a homage to lost in Space and possibly Alien but who knows now. Huge loves and hugs to @bunnywest for her fab comma throwing, without her patience this thing, would be a mess, we are talking drunken Pirate with a spell check kind of a mess.

**Colonial Spacecraft Beacon G-C-170**

 

Stiles lay dreaming in his Stasis couch. He dreamed of a man with a whimsical smile and soft blue eyes. He lay dreaming of soft kisses and firm thighs, unaware of the nightmare that was being unleashed around him.

 

_ “Warning. Decompression of Sleep pod bays epsilon, gamma and zeta, atmospheric venting from Habitat Hub A and C” The _ ship's computer continued with her monotone warning, the klaxons sounding through the ship.

 

PT7 - the ship's android - moved methodically, fingers dancing with lightning speed over the console. Out of the viewport of the ship he could see the escape pods ejecting. Most of the crew's sleep pods were ejected safely, but a red warning light flashed. Peter’s eyes scanned the view screen. One of the pods was unoccupied. It was Navigator Stiles’s pod - his hypersleep must have been disrupted when the first meteorite hit. 

 

Addressing the ship's computer, PT spoke as he moved towards the bulkhead separating flight control from the rest of the ship. “Claudia, give me the location of Navigator Stilinski.” 

 

“Navigator Stilinski is in the Medical Hub.” PT brought up his internal map of the ship, eyes flicking over the screen as he looked for the quickest route from Flight control to Medical, then moved quickly in that direction.

 

If PT could breathe, he would have let out a relieved breath when he spotted the ship's navigator sitting on one of the med beds, administering a shot to relieve the effects of suddenly waking from Stasis.

 

“Sir, I must insist you follow me to an escape pod.” 

 

“Drop the Sir, its Stiles. And what the fuck is going on?” Stiles looked around, taking in the flashing lights and the sound of the ship’s warning sirens.

 

“We have had a bit of a kerfuffle, Sir” PT looked sheepish, not a small thing for an android.

 

Stiles let out a barking laugh and dropped the Medipen onto the floor “ _ Kerfuffle _ ? That’s not a term I expect to hear from one of HaleCorp’s flagship models.”

 

PT tilted his head, microprocessors working to formulate the best answer. “I have spent the last 200 years alone. I utilized the ship’s vast catalogue of early earth television shows to help make my verbal and physical responses more pleasing to my owners.”  

 

“Huh. That's interesting, I guess.” 

 

“I am sorry to push Sir, but I really must insist we get you to an escape pod. The ship's orbit is degrading rapidly, and we are currently on a trajectory with the M class planet below.” PT motioned to the other side of the Med Bay.” If you will follow me Sir, we can get you to safety.” 

 

Stiles slid off the Med bed and went to follow PT, but stopped and turned towards one of the computer consoles. “The colonists, PT. We need to evacuate their pods.”

 

“Let me assure you Sir, that I have already taken the necessary steps to ensure the survival of the remaining colonists.” PT held up his wrist and tapped a sequence into the skin. A holoprojection shone above the palm of his hand, showing the ship’s escape pods being jettisoned. “We lost over 70 per cent of the colonists and half the ship’s crew when the first impacts happened. I was unable to act fast enough when the micro meteorites first hit. I did not pick them up till it was too late for coarse adjustment.” PT watched the navigator carefully, subtly monitoring the young man’s blood pressure and any shifts in his breathing that would be indicative of shock.

 

“The life pods, PT. Where will they go?” Stiles kept his breathing even, but PT could see that Navigator Stiles was blinking rapidly, mind trying to catch up on the events that had befallen the Beacon on her journey from Earth to Sirius X-15.

 

“They are programmed to take their cargo to the nearest colonial world Sir, but I fear the damage from the meteor shower may have damaged the homing systems - the pods seem to be heading to the planet below.” 

 

“Derek, I mean Captain Hale, is he safe?” 

 

“Captain Hale woke shortly after the first impact and worked alongside me to try and maintain the ship’s systems. There was an electrical short that caused him injury, and I had to sedate him. I placed him in an escape pod with a C.R.I.S.  model to watch over him.” Tilting his head, PT watched the various emotions flood the young navigator’s face.

 

“Derek's healing should have kicked in. I mean isn’t that part of the reason Werewolves make up most long haul flight crews, increased healing and stamina?”

 

“If I were to summarize, I would say the longer than average hypersleep and the electrical short that injured him may have affected his abilities.” PT was finding his logic processors getting stressed having to reason with this young human. “Please, Sir! I really must insist that you now proceed to the Pod bay. Captain Hale would be quietly vexed with me if I allowed harm to befall you.” PT spoke in what his circuits told him was a pleading tone that would spur the young Navigator to follow him.

 

“Yeah, Derek’s a worrywart all right. He’s always looked out for me, ever since we were kids.” 

 

PT watched as Stiles transferred files to his wrist comp and then signalled PT to lead the way. They didn’t even make it out of the Med Bay when the ship was rocked by a massive explosion, decompression sirens blaring through the ship. “I am sorry Sir, we can no longer make it to the Escape Pods.” 

 

Stiles let out a frustrated groan then, slamming his hands into the bulkheads of the ship. 

”Shit, shit, shit. This was not how I was supposed to go out. I was supposed to die in the throes of passion, while being hand fed curly fries, goddammit.”

 

“That does not sound very hygienic ” PT observed. 

 

Stiles grunted and muttered about androids while scanning his wrist comp.”Can the ship make it down? Could we land her?” 

 

PT quickly went through the calculations, double checking with the ship's computer. “We no longer have functioning inertial dampeners, and the hydraulics are problematic, but we could use the forward docking thrusters to slow our descent. If you are able to keep her level, we could try to land on a large water mass on the planets northern hemisphere.”

 

Stiles nodded, heading towards the other bulkhead hatch that led to flight control. The cockpit was a mess of wires and flashing lights, the smoke from the electrical fire still hanging in the air. ”PT,  cut the alarms and see if you can power up the landing systems. I’m going to try to punch in a landing trajectory.” 

 

PT watched as the young navigator wrestled to control the hopelessly damaged ship. The young man had a fluid grace when working at his chosen profession. It was a shame we're probably going to end up a smouldering puddle of metal on the surface of the planet, but the odds of survival were simply not good. “Sir, I must inform you. The odds of success for this landing are 97.6 per cent in favor of us exploding on impact.” 

 

“PT, don’t tell me the odds,” Stiles yelled back, a slightly crazed grin on his youthful face.

 

“Did you just quote Star Wars to me, Sir?” PT smiled, despite the circumstances. He adored Star Wars. He had watched it many times on the long voyage. Early earth movies and TV shows had helped stave off 200 years of boredom and loneliness.

 

“Dude, you know the Holy Trinity? That’s awesome!  Once we land this hunk of junk, I think you and I are going to have a wonderful friendship.” 

 

The ship did not glide into the upper atmosphere - it slammed into it. The Beacon bucked and fought against the tenuous control of the human navigator and android. They worked in tandem, firing the forward engines for short bursts, controlling the pitch of the ship. She was still coming in too fast. The landing was going to be rough.

 

They broke through the grey rolling cloud cover of the planet. Azure waters sparkled below. PT rapidly typed commands into the ship’s failing computer system.  A series of loud bangs reverberated through the ship. “What was that?” Stiles yelled over the roar of the engines. 

 

“I released the Terraforming hubs that were not damaged, Sir. If we survive the landing, we may have need of them.” 

 

“Huh. Good thinking, Ninety-nine,” Stiles answered 

 

“My designation is PT7 Sir, not Ninety-nine?”

 

“I‘ll tell you about Get Smart if we land in one piece, ‘kay? But right now, there’s a whole lot of water coming at us really fast.” Stiles's hands danced across the data pads, fighting for control, the whine and screech of the air brakes sounding in the cabin.

 

PT looked up from his screen to see the vast blue inland ocean filling the viewport. “Oh, shit!” 

 

“Hold on, this is gonna get bumpy,” Stiles yelled. The impact was sudden and jarring, and PT shut down, a safety protocol to protect his damaged systems. He slurred out what he thought would be his final words to the young Navigator. 

 

“I  _ really _ wanted to be wrong about the odds Sir.”

  
  
  
  


\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


**Landfall**

 

Stiles grunted in exertion as he dragged the shut down android up onto the sand. “Goddamit, what did Laura make you out of, Mythril? You weigh a freaking ton.”

 

Dropping back onto the sand, Stiles stared up at the sky. Bright trails of fire-scarred the blue expanse where debris from the damaged ship's re-entry still rained down. He looked to the horizon at the small star that was the planet’s sun. It would be dark soon. Further up the shore, Stiles could see the hulking shape of one of the Terraforming pods. They would need to get to it soon. The large container held everything needed to help keep them alive on this world.

 

Stiles looked over at the Android. For the first two years of the journey, PT had acted as a workhorse and helper, his fast mind and acerbic wit winning him the crew’s affection. Derek's older sister had created PT, designed him in honour of their uncle who had died while saving them from a catastrophic house fire when they were children. It had been whispered that she had managed to imbue her creations with emotions and responses, something that the Robotics laws strictly prohibited. She had, of course, scoffed at such suggestions, saying Argent corp was just jealous of the improvements she had made, that her PT and CHRIS models were vastly superior to anything Argent corp had ever made.

 

Argent corp had been furious when she had unveiled CHRIS, modelled after Argents’ late son, who had been more Hale than Argent, and who had also passed saving the children from the fire. Both androids had been designed with the purpose of joining the colonists, both of them imbued with skills and strengths to help the humans and Werewolves on their journey to their new home. 

 

Looking down at the deactivated android, Stiles felt his heart stutter. Logically, he knew that PT was a machine, not a man, but the two years they had worked alongside each other before the crew went into hypersleep had been amazing. PT never got frustrated with Stiles’s chatter, never told him to shut up. In fact, he would seek him out just to talk. Physically, PT was perfection, even down to the hint of stubble coming through the synth skin. Laura had truly worked her magic with these droids.  

 

Running fingers down the droid’s jawline, Stiles found the slight indent at the divot of PT’s jaw.  Holding his breath, he pressed the skin and waited. Stiles felt like he had been looking at the droid’s closed eyes for hours when they suddenly popped open, bright blue orbs staring back at him.

 

“Sir, why am I wet?” PT blinked several times, then sat up. “Oh, I see. We survived. Excellent.”

 

Stiles let out the breath he had been holding in a loud exhale. “Yeah. But now we have to try and find the others.” Stiles started to shiver, the cold of the world finally working its way through the shock.

 

PT’s hand shot forward, grabbing Stiles by the wrist. Lifting Stiles arm up, he studied Stiles’s face “Sir, your body temperature is dangerously low and your heartbeat is irregular. May I suggest we find shelter off this beach?” 

 

Stiles drew his arm back from PT’s grip. He could still feel the android’s fingers on his skin ”I’m ok, PT.”  The android gave him a stern look, shaking his head, but let the subject drop.

Stiles stood on shaky legs and looked down the beach. The wind blowing off the ocean was bitterly cold, and now the surge of adrenaline that had fueled him was no longer present, he felt cold and very tired. “I’m freezing my ass off here, PT. You think you can walk?”

 

“I don't believe any of my motor systems are damaged, Sir.” 

 

“Dude, can you stop with the Sir?  My dad was Sir. I’m just Stiles,” he huffed. 

 

“You’re not  _ just _ Stiles, Sir-Stiles, I mean,” PT replied, getting to his feet.

 

Stiles smirked. “Up you get, Kryten.  Let's get this show on the road.” 

 

“Kryten? Really, Stiles?” Peter wrinkled his nose. “I suppose I should be glad it wasn’t  Rimmer. But if you have to call me something, would you be offended if I suggested you call me Peter?” 

 

“Um, OK, if you prefer that. But why Peter?”

 

“Stiles, I’ve spent the past 200 years learning everything I can about humans, our mission, and dare I say it, the meaning of life.  And though I am technically just a  _ manufactured servant _ ,“  - the android’s lips twisted in a scowl at that - “I wish to be more, to have a name and not a designation, a name I chose for myself and that I think suits me.” Peter tilted his, head a hint of defiance in his stance

 

“Peter is good, you're right. It suits you. So what, you want to be human?” Stiles, unlike others, was not appalled by the thought. He had always felt that Synths were given a rough deal, treated as just tools. He had always believed they were more, and it seemed Peter was proof of that.

 

“It’s something I have begun to feel strongly about. the CRIS unit and I discussed it often,  before the crew and he was put into hypersleep.” 

 

“You and Derek's CRIS unit talked about wanting to be human?” 

 

“Yes and no. And he prefers just to be called Chris. He thought he was malfunctioning. He was having issues with unprogrammed emotions in regards to someone,” Peter smiled. 

  
  


“Oh my god, it’s Derek, isn't it? Chris has a giant android daddy boner for our beloved captain!” Stiles grinned and fist pumped the air “Lyds owes me 50 credits.“

 

“If you mean that Chris finds Captain Hale arousing then yes, though I fail to see how it is a bone or how Chris is a Daddy. Synthetics are unable to have offspring, and is it not frowned upon by your society for family members to have sexual relations?” Peter asked thoughtfully. 

 

“Yeah, we're not going to have that conversation right now.” Stiles blushed, not wanting this discussion to go any further.

 

Peter’s eyes got that distant look that meant he was accessing his memory synapsis. “Oh, I understand now!  It’s a kink, isn’t it?.  _ A "Daddy" is usually an older (more dominant) male sexual partner with a submissive partner. The partners usually enjoy some level of "role-play" where the Daddy tells the younger one what to do. _ ” Peter smirked at him as he recited the definition. The smirk was both infuriating and hot, and Stiles wanted to bury his head in the black sand.

 

Stiles felt his cheeks burn red and he mumbled out words in agreement. “ Yeah that sounds about right.  Could we like please change the subject?” They walked a little further, Stiles still blushing and Peter still smirking.  “Hey, looks like we’re getting close. The pod doesn’t seem to be too damaged.” 

 

They walked across the black sand, pulling their sodden uniforms around them. Peter may be an android but the receptors in his synth skin responded to cold and heat just like a human. He had higher tolerances and could withstand more adverse conditions, but it didn’t mean he was comfortable or liked feeling the cold.

 

The Terraforming Pod was really just a giant shipping container with extra padding and small landing rockets and a parachute to ensure its safe landing. This one’s main chute had not deployed so it had hit the ground hard. Thank god the rockets had fired, or this pod would have been toast. Stiles struggled with the Pod’s doors, the heat from re-entry having fused the mechanism. Peter gently moved Stiles aside. “If you would allow me, Stiles.” 

 

Peter gripped the twisted metal that was once the latch and yanked. Stiles could see the play of muscle under the thin uniform shirt Peter wore. The way the muscles in Peter’s neck strained as he yanked the latch open had Stiles breathing a little heavier than he should.

 

Peering into the dark pod, Stiles let out a low whistle. “Well, would you look at that, something is finally going right.“ Sitting amongst crates of provisions and Terraforming gear was a small four person rover, inside which a family could travel, ea,t and sleep, safe from any hostile environment. It had its own air and water filtration system, and its large mesh covered tires could navigate most surfaces.

 

“Well we got wheels, that’s a start, and I know those boxes up the back have food packs. Let’s see if we can rustle up some dry clothes.” Peter nodded, following Stiles to the back of the pod. A thorough search pulled up crates of jackets and overalls plus good hiking boots “Let's get changed, and then see if we can get the rover powered up.” 

 

Peter stripped out of his wet clothing, unashamed of his nudity. “God, you Synths are as bad as Werewolves - no body shame.“ 

 

“Why would I be ashamed? I was told that creator Hale made myself and Chris to a most exacting standard.  Do you find something displeasing about my form?”

 

Stiles found it hard to swallow around the lump that was now in his throat. “Shit, no. I mean,  - forget it. I just - well, when you look like I do, being around all these super buff werewolves all your life, you become a bit self-conscious, that’s all.”  Yeah, Stiles didn’t feel awkward  _ at all _ , staring at Peter all nude and perfect.

 

“Stiles, if I may be so bold, I have seen you in the communal showers. You shouldn’t be self-conscious. I personally find your figure pleasing to the eye.” 

 

Peter's honesty didn’t help. Stiles blushed furiously as he dragged his wet clothes off.  Stiles glared at the Android “Could you like turn around or something, please?” 

 

“As you wish, Stiles. Though again, I still say you have nothing to be ashamed of. I find you rather pleasing to look at.” God, did Peter just  - No, Stiles decided. His brain was just short-circuiting 

Quickly getting dressed, Stiles looked around at the assorted crates and storage lockers. He punched his security code into a large metal locker and the lid slid open. “Ah, these should come in handy.” Stiles removed two Plasma rifles. Seeing Peter’s raised eyebrow, Stiles smirked. “Well, you never know if we might need them. Better to be prepared, I say.” 

 

“I have just run a risk assessment of the likelihood of you shooting yourself, Stiles. The odds are not in your favour,” Peter deadpanned.

 

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Kryten.” 

 

“You’re welcome, Lister.” 

 

“You did not just - you did!  I don't know if I can handle travelling with a smartass Red Dwarf watching Android.” Stiles smiled, shaking his head.

 

“You forgot good looking,” Peter murmured as he hefted a crate containing rations and water onto the back of the Rover.

 

“Nope,” Stiles hummed. ”Did not forget that, no sir.” Stupid good looking androids with their pretty blue eyes.

Stiles, with Peter's help, pulled down the ramp and looked out at the churning Ocean, “Looks like one hell of a storm coming in. I think we should make a move.” 

 

“I heartily agree. My sensors tell me it is a category 5 storm. We’d best not be here when it hits.” 

 

Stiles got into the Rover, watching Peter strap himself in he gave a grin. “So, you ready to explore this new world?“

 

Peter grinned back. “You know what? I’d rather stay here and cook marshmallows by the campfire and sing bad camp songs. But If I must...”

 

Stiles let out a barking laugh. This was going to be an interesting adventure.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave kudos and comments <3


End file.
